Pantheon
by Sokerchick
Summary: A series of short, unrelated character studies. Mostly of Charlie. Each chapter focuses on one of the characteristics of the gods in the Greek Pantheon.
1. Hermes

Hermes – The Greek messenger god. Known for his sandals with wings that allowed him to fly.

Charlie Crews hates treadmills. They remind him too much of prison.

He's not a born runner. Or at least he never used to run out of anything but necessity. He played sports growing up. Baseball and lacrosse. So he trained with the team and was fast but that was just a side effect of the joy of a great shot, a well executed pass or a stolen base.

When he joined the police force there were PT tests to pass. He had always been fit so he passed but grumbled about the necessity of all the running. He enjoyed the camaraderie of his fellow police officers and there was a certain level of that found in the communal bitching about instructors being hard-asses and miles that had to be run.

Then he went to prison. He did sit ups and pushups in his cell when he was confined there. When he wasn't he ran endless circles in the yard. Never going anywhere. The track had been little more than the space where the grass had worn away along the edge of the fence. Like dogs testing the end of a lead when left chained outside, the inmates had worn the grass away under endless footsteps. The track was something less than a quarter mile around but he ran ceaselessly in his worn down prison issue sneakers adding his footsteps to the paths of countless others.

When he got out of prison the first thing he did was buy new clothes. Taylor made contrasting the one size fits most prison uniform. He bought running shoes. Pairs and pairs of them. Running became his meditation. Five, ten, fifteen miles at a clip with only the soothing sound of his feet on the pavement steadily moving him forward. The only thing of importance the moment he was in and putting one step in front of the other. A mental track of the Buddha running along in his head with him. The serenity of the sun on his skin and his own body powering him wherever he wanted to go.

If prison did nothing else it had made Charlie Crews into a runner and he reveled in it.


	2. Aphrodite

Aphrodite – The Greek god of love.

Love is in short supply in prison. It becomes a commodity to be bought or sold or stolen. But Crews thinks, when he looks at the man seated across from him, that Ted Early loves him a little.

Ted caught his eye in the yard almost six months before. Crews had propped himself against a corner of fence protecting his back when he saw the older man wandering through the yard in a haze. His face had been covered in mottled bruises and he had the stiff-legged walk that told of a more sinister violation than a mere beating. Especially when you tried to look into his eyes and nothing but vacancy looked back.

For two weeks Charlie cept his head down watching as the bruising patterns changed and faded and reformed and shifted. He watched until the vanct look disappeared and a wary one took its place, like a rabbit surrounded by wolves with no place to turn but not quite willing to give up the fight yet. That was when Charlie approached him. Someone was finally home to answer his knock.

"Hello," he said and kept walking. Not stopping, not staring, not approaching too closely.

"Hello," came out an automatic response from a life now locked outside the fences. A startled look spread across Ted's face like he hadn't actually been the one to answer. However, the wary look returned. Good.

The next day the same. "Hello."

"Hello," less surprise and more calculating.

"I'm Charlie," he kept walking given Ted neither the time to think about or formulate a response.

The day after that Charlie found out through the grape vine who was doing the damage to Ted's body. "Hello"

"Hello, I'm Ted." Charlie strolled past him as if this information had no meaning but it did. Ted must have come up with the reply in anticipation of seeing Charlie. Not a big leap but a small shuffling step towards him.

One day after that Charlie had bruises too but they were mostly on his knuckles and the men who had hurt Ted were in the infirmary. Word was out that Charlie was gunning for anyone who messed with Ted. He didn't say hello that day but kept his distance and watched.

It took almost a week before Ted chose to approach Charlie. "Hello."

"Hello."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Helping others only helps ourselves."

"What?"

"The universe is the whole and as part of the whole if we allow hurt to occur to one then we are allowing ourselves to in turn be hurt."

"Are you doing this to replace them? Because just because I appreciate them not beating the shit out of me doesn't mean I'm going to bend over for you. I'll fight you too. I'll lose but I won't go down without a fight."

Finally Charlie gave him a straight answer. "I won't touch you. You just look like you needed some help."

"Thank you," but Ted still turned around and walked away confused.

Every day after that though, Ted came and sat next to Charlie in the corner of the yard, with his back to the fence. Charlie's presence like a force field creating space around them that none of the other prisoners would enter.

Ted liked that Charlie protected him without demanding anything. He liked the way his mind took unexpected turns and the way his conversations meandered. Ted liked the way Charlie talked to him, like he was still a person and not just a number. Ted loved him though, for his silences when no words were needed it brought him some small measure of peace in a world where all he felt was turmoil.


End file.
